v. 48 Respectfully, I Don’t Care If I Disappoint You.
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, share ideas, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
ANNOUNCEMENT: After six years, I’ll be launching something special. I haven’t created anything for women outside of corporate or brand work in a long time, because I rarely work with folks directly anymore. So when I do, it’s because it truly matters, and this does. This is different. Just me. And a few of you. For three months. No strange webinars or performative urgency, I promise. There’ll be a short window to join me, and I hope you will, but it’ll either be right for you or it won’t, and that’s how it should be. Stay tuned…
Now on to today’s essay…
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to be understood. I wouldn’t say I ever needed to be liked, not in the surface-level way people often chase it, but I did want to be accepted. I wanted people to get me, or at the very least, not be uncomfortable with who I was. So I learned how to soften myself. I figured out how to say the less confrontational thing, how to read the room, how to shift just enough to keep things smooth. I wasn’t doing it because I lacked confidence. I was doing it because I knew what happens when a woman says exactly what she means, without a smile and without apology. It doesn’t matter how thoughtful or grounded she is. She’ll still be called difficult or intense or too much. And eventually, those labels get used as an excuse to dismiss everything she says.
The truth is, I’m no longer interested in managing other people’s comfort at the expense of my own clarity. And after everything I’ve lived through (grief, loss, reinvention, and the slow rebuilding that comes with it,) I don’t have the bandwidth to twist myself into something softer just to make my truth more acceptable. I used to spend a lot of energy making my boundaries sound polite so no one would be disappointed. But what I’ve learned is that the people who are determined to be disappointed will find a reason, no matter how gently I speak. And the ones who truly know me won’t need me to perform softness to understand my intention.
“There will be people who are disappointed by this shift....but disappointing someone is not the same thing as doing something wrong. ”
I’m at a place in my life where I will no longer say yes to things I don’t want to do. I’m not pushing myself through interactions or commitments that leave me drained. I’m not explaining my way into acceptability. That’s not my work anymore. My favorite sentence lately is, “I don’t have the bandwidth for that.” And I mean it. Not in a sarcastic or passive-aggressive way, but in a deeply truthful, boundary-honoring way. It’s not up for negotiation. It doesn’t require a follow-up. It simply says: I’ve reached my limit, and that’s enough.
I understand that people might feel let down. I’m no longer afraid of that. Disappointment is a feeling, and people are allowed to feel whatever they feel. But their feelings don’t dictate my decisions. I can care about someone and still say no. I can hold compassion and still protect my energy. There’s a difference between being kind and being self-sacrificing, and I no longer confuse the two.
Maybe this clarity comes with age. Or with grief. Or maybe it just comes from being done with the performance of making everyone else more comfortable while slowly losing pieces of yourself—or in this case, myself— in the process. Either way, I know I’m not alone in this. And if something in you is nodding along right now, let this be your permission too. You don’t have to explain your boundaries to make them valid. You don’t have to perform softness to be worthy of space. You get to choose clarity. You get to choose yourself. And if someone is disappointed by that, let them be. That’s not yours to hold.
Every essay features a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Fresh vegetables for dinner, anyone?
This week’s microjoy: We’re visiting my in-laws in the midwest. I picked vegetables with my mother-in-law like it was just a normal weekday, which it was, but also wasn’t. It’s oddly satisfying about pulling dinner from the ground while talking about nothing in particular. It’s a reminder of how quiet moments can feel like stability, even when everything else feels like too much.
P.S. Per usual, if this resonated with you- PLEASE repost, comment, share and spread the word.
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With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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